Inside of us
by TheEternalSinner
Summary: Tracer didn't have a good day. Widowmaker noticed. This was unacceptable, how dare she not take their fights seriously. In the end though, maybe she should have thought things through. Now there are these unforeseen consequences they'll have to deal with. Rated for Romance and Torture.
1. The Fall

Warning: going off the deep end here. Just a terrible masochist who expresses themselves through unrealistic, anonymous writing on the internet.

Inside of us.

Chapter one: The Fall

Widowmaker felt the faintest sense of elation as she stood on the edge of the old two story building, watching the scene a couple of meters underneath her unfold. It was raining. Talon agents, no one of any _importance_ she mused, were pouring in from various directions, homing in on the bruised and broken body struggling in the mud below. Her doing. She felt particularly satisfied with the current situation.

The quirky pest had been zooming around her like a pesky fly, like she had done on so many earlier occasions. Blue flashes danced as the smaller woman had dashed around her. They had fought. Both receiving blows and making sure the other one got back the same treatment. They were equals, both with their unique sense of fighting. It required a lot of her skills. That was good. She was trained for this after all. It was good to put them into practice. It made her heart beat pleasantly hard. This everlasting chase was a treasure really. Something thrilling among the endless dull missions, which were crowned by merely one moment of feeling.

Today had been a bit different though. She'd been fresh out of a reconditioning session. She could still feel her skin vibrate hotly and her mind dulled of emotions that weren't focussing on her mission. The desire to go all out and feel her heart beat faster had been unbearable today. Once, what now felt like a lifetime ago the thought of more 'sessions' had terrified her to the point of nausea and blind panic. Ever since then she had grown to welcome them. The pain would cleanse her of doubts, worries and other unnecessary feelings. It also had become a rather pleasant feeling. Something hot to warm her ever cold skin. Today it had made her extra sharp.

Tracer on the other hand, had been out of it. Her movement had been sluggish, her eyes dull. A hangover, probably. Widowmaker had sneered at the thought. Didn't the yellow pest take their fights seriously?

Though, as their fight had progressed Tracers change in pace seemed to have been more mental rather than physical. She'd space out occasionally, staring at Widowmaker blankly before realizing, barely in time, that she in fact did need to avoid the incoming gunfire

She had tried to bring out the girls better parts. Irritating her, teasing her, giving her faux opportunities to get a few blows in, she used every weapon at her disposal. Still the girl kept operating far below her usual capabilities.

Eventually Widowmaker had grown tired of it. She'd coaxed the girl to the edge of the sloped roof they were on, an abandoned farmhouse, the rain making it extra slippery. Once on the edge she emptied a clip of her rifle in the general direction of the other girl. To avoid it Tracer dashed in her direction and recalled once the bullets were unavoidable.

That had been the plan. Widowmaker rushed to the place where Tracer would reappear. The oh so slippery edge of the roof, and kicked her hard in the leg when she did. Tracer lost balance, her feet slipped and one hard jab with the bud of her rifle was all that was needed to have the girl plummet of the rooftop. A look of horror in her eyes was confirmation that she had realized her mistake, sadly, too late. A loud yelp emerged from the girl.

Moments later a dull thud was heard.

She inched closer to the edge and carefully so she wouldn't end up below as well she peeked over it. The girl had fallen on her back. Both her guns were separated a good distance away from her. Spread eagle on the muddy ground, Tracer lay there dazed, her eyes staring into the gray sky.

Widowmaker laughed and when she did the eyes focused on her. There was irritation in those eyes, an interesting feeling to have under these circumstances for sure. But also something else. Something vacant, like it couldn't really bother her. Like she hadn't really lost anything of importance.

That irked Widowmaker immensely. How dare the girl not care enough about their fights. How dare she make it _easy_ to win. Didn't she know how important these battles were? Wasn't there a silent agreement between them that they'd go all out as equals.

Fine then. If she wanted to be that way so be it.

She opened her communicator and barked at whatever agent was on the other line that a target was down and ready for capture, quickly communicating who she had incapacitated and their whereabouts.

Tracers eyes widened as she heard what being said. She struggled to get up. _Oh now you care? Pathetic._ Widowmaker prepared for the next battle between them. There was no way the agents would come even close to capturing the girl.

She watched as Tracer attempted to pull herself from the mud... and failed. The girl attempted to lean on an arm, winced, made a smothered noise of pain and collapsed in the mud again, this time cradling her arm. Sprained wrist, possibly worse.

Tracer made another attempt, this time not using her wrist but raising upright by her back muscles alone. Once she sat she rolled on one knee and attempted to place her other boot on the ground in an attempt to gain footing. Yet she let out another pained scream (It was a disappointing sight, really) and tumbled over again, landing on her good shoulder in the mud.

Alright, so not only was there something wrong with her arm, her leg had also taken damage. Likely when she herself had kicked her there.

Tracer propped herself up on her good arm, and shifted her knee underneath her for support. Then they reached an awkward impasse, eye contact was made. Tracer looked angry. Amused, Widowmaker watched her shift over her thoughts, trying to figure out a way to escape her predicament. She kneeled on the edge of the roof and sat down, her legs dangling over the edge. Then she waited.

Furious looks were shot in her direction.

"Like what you're seeing, love?"

Widowmaker snorted.

"You are disgusting. Like a pig in the mud"

"And whose fault is that"

"Certainly not mine. You wouldn't be in your current..." She pretended to look for the right word. "Ah, 'situation' if you had made an effort, non?"

Below her the muddy girl groaned and stopped paying her any attention.

As she watched Tracer struggle around aimlessly she couldn't help marvel in the predatory feelings rising inside her. A spider in her web, waiting until the fly caught in the strings exhausted itself from struggling against her binds, only to get herself even more trapped. Or maybe more like a praying mantis, looming over her prey until it made that decisive final movement, then she'd strike.

She didn't need to strike anymore though. And she didn't have to wait much longer either. Car engines roared in the distance. Within moments inconspicuous black vans neared the site and Talon agents poured out. There must be at least a dozen of them, a couple of specialized ones among them too. Tracer wouldn't be able to escape them, at least not in her current state.

The agents acknowledged their superior lazing around on the rooftop by salute and quickly went to work. They circled around Tracer, who had been looking increasingly pale and alarmed ever since she heard the car engines approaching.

Like an animal driven into a corner she lost herself to the need to survive. Adrenaline coursed through body, numbing the pain. Her body screamed at her to get away, And so she did. Clearly using all her strength she gritted her teeth and struggled until she stood on two legs.

She managed a few steps before her leg buckled and she collapsed again. Before she landed she managed to activate her chronal accelerator and dashed forward, a blue stripe straight through her attackers. Once she stopped the momentum threw her of balance and unto the ground, landing hard on her shoulder and sliding through the mud until she came to a standstill.

She remained motionless. Except. Oh, in her speed she had managed to grab one of her guns, now cradled against her chest. This was interesting. Now the girl could somewhat defend herself. The agents approached her again, some of them holding weapons, the other chains and other equipment to capture her with. Tracer fired her rounds and couple of them had dive for cover. Others avoided it easily and approached again from behind, Tracer noticed in time and stumbled back on her feet, shooting behind her and once again dashing backwards past the crouching agents.

This charade continued for a while, Tracer dashing around aimlessly, avoiding the agent as best as she could, only to get muddier and more pale in the process. A couple of the agents had shot back, and a few bullets had scraped the girls skin. Blood was pouring from several places on her body, staining her already torn jumpsuit.

Occasionally she'd hop around on one leg, waiting for her chronal accelerator to charge. Or she'd crawl, using only one hand and one leg. One time she managed a rather impressive backroll, though she couldn't quite muffle the pained scream once she rolled on her injured leg. Needless to say, she didn't cover much distance.

It was a pathetic display really. No fault of Tracer this time. No, she was putting on a grand display of just how tenacious she really was. Avoiding twelve agents with just one functioning arm and leg and one blaster. It was the agents that were a painfully sad to look at. How hard could it be to incapacitate an already injured girl? Some of the agents were even wounded by now, dragging themselves after Tracer at a more sluggish pace than Tracer herself.

"Boss!" one of them shouted. She glanced at him. Boss? Oh these were _her_ agents. The team she had been given to assist in her operations. The realisation made her feel shame for their display. They would be reprimanded. The agent who had called her looked at her expectantly. They wanted assistance. Widowmaker groaned. It would have been faster, and likely more entertaining if she had picked up the girl and dragged her back to HQ herself.

Not even moving from her sitting position she readied her grappling hook, watched as Tracer recalled from a particular unfavourable position. Then once she reappeared shestumbled and dashed into another direction. Widowmaker aimed at where the girl would reappear and fired. _I know your patterns, cherie. I know you like no one else._

Tracer reappeared and before she had even time to regain her already feeble footing the hook attached itself to her injured ankle. Widowmaker retracted it just a bit. Tracer let out a pained scream and her leg was yanked backwards, her body plunging face first into the mud. Widowmaker couldn't resist and retracted the line a little more, dragging Tracer unceremoniously through the mud. She attempted to scream something,\ but got a mouthful of mud instead. Angry coughs and chokes was the audible result.

The agents ran towards her, trudging awkwardly after the sliding body until finally, mercifully she released the hook and retracted it to her wrist. The agents reached her and several of them pinned her to the ground, restraints ready.

That was revenge for not taking the fight seriously. She felt satisfied. Tracers hands were tied to her back and her feet were tied together. For some ungodly reason the agents thought it was necessary to cover her accelerator and they wrapped cloth and tape around it. _They probably think she won't be able to use it._ God she wanted to shoot a bullet in each of their ankles and chase them as they'd struggle to escape.

They turned Tracer around. Fiery eyes immediately found hers. _Still conscious huh, impressive._ Her eyes were set ablaze with fury, all of it focused on her captor.

"Fuck you, you fucking blueberry!" She screamed, her voice raspy.

Petty insults, the final stage of a lost battle.

"Is this what you want!?" The girl continued.

No, she supposed this wasn't what she wanted. What she had wanted was to keep fighting, to keep this dance between them in harmony. But Tracer had ruined that. Tracer hadn't taken it seriously. And now she felt the effects of what that meant for her. Truthfully Widowmaker hadn't really thought ahead far enough to realize the effects of this outcome. Now Tracer would be incarcerated. Talon would likely interrogate her and keep her a prisoner. Even if she didn't give any information she could be used as a bargaining chip to gain a ransom or valuable information from Overwatch.

That meant they couldn't fight anymore. The thought was unsettling.

Still, it didn't matter. She had come out victorious, that was the important part. And there was a good chance Tracer wouldn't let herself be locked up for very long. The girl was awfully slippery after all. And if she escaped the girl would be livid. That would be an interesting encounter.

She stood up and hopped down the roof all the while never breaking eye-contact and landing gracefully on her feet.

 _Look this is how you do this, you stupid girl._

Tracer managed to look even more pissed off. She was picked up by some of the agents and dragged off to one of the vans. All the while she didn't break eye contact. She stared intently, as if she was already planning her escape and subsuqent revenge. Before she disappeared from sight Widowmaker reached her hand to her own mouth and blew a kiss. _Goodbye._

They retained eye contact just long enough for her to see Tracer mouth something at her.

" _Bloody bitch"_

Yes, all in all this had been a good day.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Thanks for reading.


	2. The Breach

_Chapter two: The Breach_

There was silence around her, and she found herself alone with her thoughts. Soon the grand spectacle was to begin. She hadn't expected this out come at all. It had been a painful reminder that she wasn't much more than a tool to them. They didn't give her a choice. ' _You'll assist in the process, Widowmaker. Is this understood?'_ And as for Tracer? Tracer in no position to beg for basic human rights, let alone a choice.

She couldn't say she agreed with their plan. Tracer had always been Tracer. So full of everything. The idea of using the girl like this... It didn't feel right. Truthfully she wasn't even sure if it would work. Tracer was a rather tenacious type.

Well, she mused, seeing as she didn't have much of a choice in the matter she might as well play her part with endeavour. Maybe she could make it somewhat entertaining for herself. Infuriating Tracer was always a welcome sight. Her good mood dimmed somewhat. Maybe she could make it a little easier to endure for Tracer as well. Memories flickered across her eyes. They weren't pretty. And soon Tracer would have the same memories.

She was deep below ground level. Not many agents came here. Very few of them even knew this floor even existed. This level was only meant for more privileged agents. In other words, her. And the members of Talon that kept her operational she supposed. This was where she had died once, and where the new her had been born. This floor was her home. The only place where she could freely roam around without being disturbed by the eyes of judging and curious agents.

In even her wildest dreams she never imagined Tracer ending up here.

And yet she could hear the muffled yet unmistakable sound of the girls voice in the distance, yelling at whatever poor agents had been tasked with moving her.

She glanced around the room. Cold exterior Concrete floor, concrete walls, no windows. (Obviously not, they were miles below the surface after all) Huge metal door. There weren't any sort of decorations or furnishing. Except for the metal chair in the middle of the room, adorned by numerous ominous looking machines, wires and tools.

That was The Chair. _Her_ Chair.

So much time was spend in that chair. So much of it she couldn't remember. The earlier parts she didn't want to remember. She didn't spend as much time in this room now that her reconditioning had been completed, mostly she'd lounge around her chambers, bedroom, simple study and places to train. Every few weeks she'd request another treatment. Whenever the thoughts in her head became too much. Or whenever fear, doubt or any other unnecessary feeling started to rise in her chest. In the beginning uncomfortable agents would do it for her. Restrain her, program the machines and all the other precautions. After a while she dismissed them. She knew how to do all of that herself. And afterwards she knew how to get out of it by herself too. They stopped coming after that. And Widowmaker had her floor all for herself.

She didn't feel much pain anymore these days, usually just enough for her body to warn her of any damage done to her. But in that chair, there she felt pain. True, white hot, burning pain that scorched everything in its wake. Enough to scar her body, but never permanently. The pain cleansed her mind. It emptied it of all thoughts and helped her focus. Afterwards she'd feel pleasantly numb. No trace of chaos in her head, no swirl of emotions in her chest. It had become something pleasant to look forward to.

Tracer seemed to disagree with that sentiment.

The yelling was coming closer, now accompanied by sounds of struggle.

"I _AM_ WALKING! You good for nothing goon, how about you unchain me and make this a fair bout, whadya say?" The girl was always so lively.

It didn't even sound like she was scared, more like someone jousted her out of bed hours before she'd normally woke and she'd decided to give the perpetrator an earful of her thoughts.

"Keep walking, _prisoner_ " The last word was spat out. Not one of her regulars then, they'd be killed for such behaviour on this floor level.

Finally a dishevelled Tracer stumbled in front of the open door and was unceremoniously pushed through by a disgruntled guard. She looked terrible. Ankles and wrists were chained. Dressed in a brown shapeless, armless dress that reached to just barely above her knees. She was barefoot and anything except her chronal accelerator, which shone dimly underneath her dress had been removed. Even her earrings were gone. Bloodstains marred both her dress and the visible parts of her skin, the latter further adorned by deep cuts and dark bruises. She looked pale and dark bags hung under her eyes.

Tracer didn't seem affected by it in the slightest. A loud 'oof' was heard as she stumbled in and attempted to regained her composure. Her eyes glanced around the room before quickly settling on Widowmaker who had been casually leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

"You..." Recognition followed by realisation flashed across her face. It had been three days since her capture after all.

" _You_ " She repeated again, this time in the form of a guttural growl. "You did this to me!" She yanked her chains, her captor almost losing grip on them. "Because of _you_ I'm stuck here!" _You betrayed me. I thought we'd had a silent agreement._

The rage in the girls voice made Widowmakers skin crawl pleasantly, it would be so much fun to fight her in this state.

"Seems your injuries have healed well" She changed the subject casually, hoping to infuriate the girl.

"Yes, because of the creepy shit your miserable buddies have pumped into my blood" She raised her left arm a bit and used her head to gesture to the small needle punctures on her lower arm.

"That 'creepy shit' is what cured you however. And if I were you I'd be thankful for that. If you're not, well you will be soon enough. Trust me."

"What do you want from me?" Tracer all but sneered. "You can't keep me here forever, you know that as well as I do. It's just a matter of if my friends will find me or if I will escape first"

"We know. Neither of those will be necessary though, so don't worry" She didn't inform Tracer that they were hundreds of feet below the surface. With between the two locations several bolted doors, security systems, crowded living quarters and even a body of water.

She gestured at the chair in the middle of the room.

Tracer's gaze followed the direction her finger was pointing in and for what seemed to be the first time she noticed the big metal behemoth waiting silently in the middle of the room.

"Oh" she mouthed quietly. Anger drained from her face along with some of the colour.

Widowmaker enjoyed that look. It didn't last very long however.

Tracer snapped at her. "You can interrogate me all you want. I won't tell you guys anything. I'll gladly die before I'll tell you what I know"

"I know cherie. You are a stubborn one. Don't worry. I wouldn't think so little of you."

Tracer looked uncertain. "Then...why am I here?"

Widowmaker smiled sweetly. "Do you know where you are?"

"Talon HQ?" Tracer guessed.

"Yes, good job guessing that" Widowmaker uttered sarcastically. "But what _specific part_ of Talon headquarters are we?"

Tracer shrugged.

" _My_ domain, my dear. This floor is mine." She pointed at the chair. "And that. That is where I was created, where I was born."

First there was confusion on Tracer's face. Then it went blank. What colour was left on her face drained away. Her eyes dashed back and forth as she was comprehending what had been said. Finally realisation settled in.

"No..." she began feebly, almost desperately. "No you can't mean. Please, I..." She was at a loss of words.

Widowmaker laughed loudly. Oh, this was magnificent.

"'Welcome to my parlour' said the spider to the fly" She gestured at the uncomfortable looking agent and he began dragging a now struggling Tracer to the chair.

"Fuck you, you overdramatic bitch" Widowmaker was impressed with how quickly Tracer had found her fire back. "I'll never be like you. 'Welcome to my parlour?' Really? Who can even say that with a serious face?" Her feet dragged over the floor, as she refused to walk and the guard had retorted to picking her up.

"Oh, no never mind. I shouldn't have asked. Of fuckin' course you can say that with a serious face. Because you don't have any feelings right?"

"I would gag you if that wouldn't be life threateningly dangerous in a few moments"

"I'm sure you would, sicko"

Widowmaker smiled serenely.

"Let me go! This will never work. You know it Widow! You know me" She struggled with all her might, but it was to no avail. "Let me go I said! Is this how little I mean to you? Is this how little our fights meant? You'll just easily toss that aside and put me in your favourite brainwash machine to kill everything that's inside of me? I won't be Talon's mindless slave"

The last words were spat out. They sounded very personal too. The words hit Widowmaker hard. She couldn't deny that. Not all of them were true. But still. In a way she had betrayed her fighting partner.

The agent turned Tracer around and dropped her hard into the chair. He started tying her to the chair. First a metal strap across her waist, just below the accelerator, followed by her arms which were tied to the armrests by the same thick metal bands which clicked in place. Finally her feet, both chained to short chains attached to the ground in front of the chair. Her feet dangled slightly above the chair, as she wasn't long enough to reach the floor.

That wasn't the end of it. The agent reached for the machines behind Tracer's seating. He pressed buttons, programming the correct procedure. After that he grabbed two plastic bag, one with clear fluids, the other with a sickening blue looking one. He hung them up on metal hooks and attached them too plastic tubes, which were in turn attached to needles. Forcefully he grabbed Tracer's arm, held her still and professionally inserted both needles in each of her wrists one by one. Finally he attached wires with stickers all over her body. Her legs, her arms, her chest and finally her head. Tracer's vital signs appeared on a screen, among other data.

Tracer remained motionless throughout the ordeal.

Finally the agent was done. He controlled his work, checking if everything was in place and programmed well and took a step backwards, admiring his work.

Suddenly uncomfortable he glanced at Widowmaker.

"Am I dismissed?"

"Yes. Program the timer. Then on your way, agent"

He did as he was told. The timer was set to two and a half minutes.

Obviously in a hurry, and obviously terribly uncomfortable he saluted weakly and made a break for it. How unprofessional. And judging by the salute he was probably another one of _hers._

"Why is it counting down?" Ah, always so inquisitive this one.

"It's counting down to the start of your procedure. You aren't this stupid, non?"

"No, I get that you fish. Why didn't he just press a big red 'start' button and be done with it. Why the big flashy timer. It's not one of those psychological torture things right. Because if it is you can skip that. It ain't working on me, love. Just hit me with the big stuff. Rather be done with it than drag it out."

Widowmaker smiled and shook her head.

"While that is a very interesting line of thoughts you are having, that's not the reason. No, some of this stuff here" She pointed at the equipment, now out of Tracer's line of sight. "Is rather dangerous. Not when it's turned off, though you shouldn't drink what's going to pour into you regardless, but when it's turning on... well. It emits certain.. waves that can be quite damaging to the human body."

Tracer didn't look too pleased with that information. Widowmaker couldn't be more pleased.

"I'm immune of course. It's not deadly at all... to me. You on the other hand aren't so immune. But you will be. Don't worry you won't get sick. We've put special precautions into place to easy your body into it, protect it from harm. Your retainer on the other hand, well he isn't so lucky. So he ran"

She didn't add that even holding one of the bags of liquid was enough to damage the body. And that the protective matter was one of the components mixed in the _other_ bag. A stable process once running in your blood. Not so much if you hold it. The agent would be fine for a couple more years though. No worries.

"What a little bitch" Tracer said disgruntled.

As if to prove a point far in the distance the sound of a heavy door slamming shut was heard.

Now they were alone.

"They ordered me to stay. "She continued, breaking the silence "Oversee your progress and make sure you don't die or escape. You are the new important pet project, you hotshot"

Tracer didn't grace that with a response.

Silence fell over them, the silent buzzing of the machinery their only companion. Widowmaker glanced at the timer, Tracer followed suit. Thirty seconds left.

Widowmaker grinned. "Enjoy your last moments as a frail, emotional, foolish girl. Soon you'll be much more than you can even begin to imagine"

Tracer glared at her, though there was something urgent flickering behind her eyes. A sense of desperation, of inescapable dread seemed to hang around her.

"Please" she all but whimpered. Please, Amélie. I don't want this. I'm afraid I'll die."

It was a last resort. Using her real name. _Her old name, s_ he reminded herself.

It wouldn't work. The progress couldn't be stopped. It had been set in motion.

Something tugged at her heartstrings.

Tracer, mon amour. It cannot be stopped. But It will be alright. You have the strength to do it. I've seen it myself" Tracer seemed crestfallen. Fear now marred her face, yet a look of determination still shone brightly in her eyes.

Widowmaker felt confused. Was she worried about Tracer? Did she try to comfort her just now?

She didn't have long to ponder over such thoughts. She glanced at the timer. Five seconds left. Quickly her eyes sought Tracer's, whose still determined eyes seemed to be searching for hers as well. Widowmaker kept looking as the seconds counted down painfully slow.

Suddenly, and in all fairness if Widowmaker had paid attention to what was by all accounts her job she wouldn't have used the word 'suddenly' to describe the situation. But suddenly the machinery behind Tracer started booting up. The fluids were activated and the process of pumping them into Tracer's body was set in motion.

Tracer's defiant look left her face. Her eyes went wide with panic.

Other machinery now booted up as well. A quiet hum began, a sign that the electrotherapy was about to start. Tracer's vital signs beeped ominously.

Widowmaker held her breath, staring intently at the Tracer. Tracer in turn stared with all her might into Widowmaker's eyes. Her lifeline.

For one moment time seemed to stand still.

Tracer's body suddenly shuddered. Her mouth shot open as if in a scream, but no sounds came out. Her head smashed into the concrete board behid her. Her arms trashed against the handcuffs. Her legs clenched against the front of the chair, shaking violently. Fresh tears started streaming down her face.

Widowmaker remembered the first time she had felt it. It had been unbearable. The heat, the buzzing, the electricity rushing through your body, hurting all your muscles. She had been so _weak._ She thought back to it with disgust. She had been so frail, so useless. The pain made her realize that. Her emotions got the best of her then, she had been so terrified. Wanted to give in and end the pain once and for all in that cold chair. But not anymore. Now she was strong. Now the pain cleansed her mind of unnecessary feelings, no fear, no doubt, nothing to distract her from her missions. The harsh electric pain shooting throughout her body, making her skin scorch and her brain go blank had become a welcoming prospect. A cleansing to keep her who she was.

Tracer however was far from that point. Widowmaker remembered the weeks upon weeks of treatment she received, and her former self had been a frail lady with no combat or interrogation training. She wondered how long it would take before Tracer would break. How long it would be before she became like her.

The thought stirred something inside her. She wouldn't be alone anymore. Within Talon she was treated like an oddity, a pariah. A weapon to be feared, a tool to be used and looked down upon. Something without a will. Even the lowest of the low were disgusted by someone who couldn't, in their opinion, feel. She didn't mind much. She was rather detached after all. But the prospect of someone on the same frequency as her was... welcoming. Maybe she could use the company.

She glanced at Tracer. She recognized that pain, understood what the other was feeling. It wasn't easy for the girl. Something painfully warm and strong rose in her chest. Suddenly the sight became unbearable to watch. But she wouldn't let herself avert her eyes. It would be unfair.

Empathy had been a foreign concept to her for the longest of times, but now she felt it course through her body. Tracer had been her other half on the battlefield. The one she could go all out on and the one who could go all out on her as well. Their fighting styles so different yet so perfectly in sync. She had enjoyed the looks and sound of pain she had extracted from her whenever she managed to land a blow. She'd like to imagine her defeated and helpless under her touch. A step closer to.. something.

But this. So helpless and weak. No quirky comments, no teasing or giggles, no opportunity to fight back.. Just fear and unbearable pain. Tracer looked lost in herself. Her eyes were opened but unfocused, as if she was locked away from the outside, trapped within her thrashing body. Widowmaker remembered the loneliness, the pain isolating her from her surroundings. This wasn't a sight she had been expecting. Had she really looked like this as well?

This wasn't right. This wasn't Tracer.

She felt herself move before she became aware of it. A few quick steps and she was in front of Tracer. Numerous wires were strapped to her body. Tubes were attached to needles that went into her body. They were bleeding slightly where they pierced the skin. Likely from Tracer's pained struggles. The places where her body was chained to the chair were red and bruised. Blood trickled down her lip all the way to her chin. She had bit her lip open.

"Tracer, cherie, focus"

Tracer blinked and for a few short seconds she came back. Her eyes became less blurry and homed in on Widowmakers face. A look of recognition flashed across her eyes. She opened her mouth as if to speak but only strained sobs left her throat.

Soon she was lost to the steady increase of pain again. Her eyes became unfocused once more. The fluids pumped into her body assisting in making her more susceptible to the stimulations.

And then she finally found her voice. The screams began. An involuntary way to channel the pain inside her into something else. The screams where interchanged with sobs and groans. They weren't even any words. Tracer screamed her lungs out.

She couldn't take the sight and sound of it the tiny woman so broken and helpless, no longer in control of her body. Was it really this easy? Soon there would be nothing left of her but the empty shell of a once good soldier, waiting to become another weapon Talon craved so much. The thought made her uneasy. Was that all she was too?

She remembered the loneliness, the dread, the wish to die, and finally the emptiness. The cold nothingness she had welcomed fondly after all the pain. Something tugged at her. She couldn't let Tracer go through this alone. Tracer was her rival, her equal. Tracer was hers. And in this, this process of change, they should be together. They had to be connected.

Without hesitation she placed her hand upon the chained hand of the other girl. Immediately there was pain, more than she had anticipated. She had to grit her teeth and ignore the instinctive reflex of pulling her arm back. White hot pain shot into her from the tips of her fingers. The electricity now coursed through the both of them, migrating some of the strain put on Tracer. The muscles in her arm clenched painfully and heat spread from it into every part of her body. She realized they had put the girl on a much higher starting doses than she had been. Apparently Talon expected more durability from a trained field agent.

Tracer reacted to the touch. Her eyes focused once more and this time when their gazes met she was able to keep it. She stopped screaming. Now that the pain was divided between them she regained some control over her body. Tracer's expression went to one of confusion and then to one of pleading.

 _Help me, please._

Widowmaker felt something stronger than the pain course through her body. Something starting in her brain going all the way down to her feet. A form of sympathy she thought. But there was something more. A dark sort affection. Something changed in her. The empathy and sympathy she had been feeling got mixed with something more She wanted to help. But not quite stop these proceedings. A small smile crept along her lips. She wanted to share it with her, guide her along, comfort her and finally rise her from the ashes..

"I can see you're in pain" She murmured and idly rubbed her thumb over the others hand, the movement sending fresh waves of pain into her own wrist, and surely Tracer's as well.

Tracer looked hopeful.

"But" Widowmaker continued, and was sure the pleasurable satisfaction she felt was evident in her voice. "I won't save you"

Tracer's look of hope washed away instantly. Devastated she kept looking numbly into the other woman's eyes.

Widowmaker smiled and leaned in closer. She wondered if she looked as predatory as she felt. Judging by Tracer's reaction, who shuddered and shrank back into the chair, it did.

Her arm moved over from its spot on the bruised hand. Softly she stroked the back of the girls hand, went higher, over the metal chain keeping her wrist tightly against the metal armrest, and to her lower arm. There she softly caressed the skin back and forth, occasionally gently raking her nails along the skin.

"You see" she continued softly. "I know you. I've fought you. I know how strong you are, you never give up. You were a pest, a thorn in my side, an annoyance. But you never gave up." she dug her nails painfully hard into a bruised spot on the girls arm, eliciting a gasp from the terror struck girl. "And that's why I know you can take it, sweet girl. You are stronger than I was back then. You will survive this. Take it all, cherie"

She stared at the ground and after a moment she quietly added "For me"

It sounded more fragile than she had meant to. Too honest for her own liking. Loneliness and longing from the core of her being, a part she didn't access very often had crept out. It had an effect though. A sob brought her attention back to the restrained woman. Tears were streaming down her face. Tremors shuddered through her body.

"I c-can't" for the first time she spoke, her voice was ragged. "I-I'm going to die" She coughed hard.

 _Likely dehydrated, irritation in the windpipe, possible minor damage to the lungs._ Widowmaker quickly assessed. The weakness the girl was showing irked her. She wasn't sure why. Annoyance at the pathetic display in front of her? No, that wasn't just it. There was something deeper, something she couldn't access very well.

"Don't do this, Tracer" She spoke sternly. "You aren't this weak. Don't disgrace yourself. Do not disgrace what _we_ are" She dug her nails hard into the others skin and scratched deeply across her arm.

Tracer screamed. "I can't!" she choked out desperately. Panic laced her voice "I'm going t-to lose myself. I'm ...' She coughed hard. "I'm going to... disa- disappear, I'll be empty in- inside" Sobs wrecked her body, she closed her eyes. Quietly she added "Like you.."

Widowmaker felt herself go cold, numbly she felt surprised she even could. Then a flurry of emotions washed over her. Rage, she wanted to hurt the woman, grab her and shake her hard. Hit her for saying that, for being so weak. Affection, the need to hold her close, caress her skin, tell her it would be alright, that there was nothing to fear.

In the end she wasn't sure what feeling won. Maybe both.

She leaned in close "Remember all those times you wouldn't leave me be?" She drawled "Buzzing around my head like an insect that wouldn't die. Always saying 'I won't give up on you. I know you're still in there Amélie.' She said in a high pitched voice, a bad imitation of her rival. "Well, guess what?" She noticed Tracer staring at her, eyes wide.

"You were right. And I will make sure _Lena_ stays inside you as well"

She brought her free hand up to the others face and placed it on the stained cheek, eliciting a cry of pain from the girl, who yanked her head away from the touch but her restraints wouldn't let her move very far. The skin on your face is very sensitive after all, especially under near-lethal volts of electricity.

Widowmaker gave her a moment to regain herself, all the while still softly stroking the girls arm.

"Don't fight the pain, my dear" She murmured. "Don't fight me" Slowly she moved her hand closer to the others cheek. "Give in to it" She whispered softly. "Let it consume you. I'll be with you"

She cared so much, she could hear the evidence of it in her voice. "I'll be with you, Lena. I will not leave you"

This time, when her fingers made contact with skin, Lena didn't back away. She started slowly. Only the tips of her fingers made tentative contact. They looked into each other's eyes. A battle of wits, but also of trust. She didn't dare move her fingers. Afraid Tracer would break the contact again. Break the tentative connection that had appeared between them. Since when had the other girls trust became so important to her?

A look of quiet resignation settled over Tracer. She closed her eyes for a moment, a tear rolling down her cheek. When they opened again there was that hint of determination in them once again. A spark of the strength of live she had always carried around so valiantly.

Widowmaker felt a change in the arm of the girl, which she had still been caressing. She felt the tension in the arm diminish ever so slightly. And not only that, all of Tracer's body seemed to become less tense. Her fists unclenched, the white of her knuckles quickly regaining red hues. Her shoulders slumped downwards. One by one all the girls muscles became less rigid.

Tracer leaned into the hand on her cheek. She took a deep breath.

And then.

Tracer relaxed.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

/

/

Thanks for reading :) I once again realise that I am terrible at one shots. 4 shot sounds better.


	3. The Binding

_Chapter 3 - The Binding_

Widowmaker watched the tension disappear from Tracers body.

It was a sign of trust. Maybe one of accepting loss. Accepting the fact that there wasn't much of a choice. Pick your poison, they say. Tracer had decided that accepting Widowmaker and her offer was a better poison than enduring this alone. She would go mad either way.

She leaned into the hand on her cheek and closed her eyes. Giving in.

"It hurts" she whispered. "So m-much"

"I know, cherie. Don't fight it. I'm with you"

The others eyes fluttered open, and almost hazily she stared into the others eyes.

"You can feel it too, right?" She looked for the right words. "The uhm.. e-electricity"

"Oui, I do" She gently moved her hand against the others cheek in a circular motion, immediately the girl tensed up in pain, only to relax again. Widomaker did it again, evoking the same reaction. "The trick is.." She whispered, repeating the motions, softly tracing circles with her fingers, then pausing, looking at the reactions she was getting. "To accept it. Become one with the pain" _Become one with me._ Tracer kept tensing up each time the fingers on her cheek left trails of pain in their wake, only to give in to the sensation and relax once more.

Tracer tensed again, yet this time it was slightly less strong. Widowmaker kept repeating the motion. Waves on the ocean, slowly retreating. Each time a little less powerful. Each time the body went less rigid under her touch. Each time it lasted shorter.

"Let it burn you, cherie" She whispered softly, affection lacing her voice.

And Tracer did. She surrendered herself.

Eventually, neither of them knew how long, Tracer didn't tense up at all anymore. Relaxed she leaned against the others touch. Her eyes closed. Occasionally she'd let out a soft hum, no longer strained and filled with pain.

It was the first time Widowmaker had seen her so relaxed and vulnerable. No amusement, anger, pain and whole other array of feelings Tracer usually displayed on the battlefield.

She stopped her movements and took the opportunity to look at the other girls face undisturbed. She looked so peaceful, so relaxed. The girl could have been sleeping. If she hadn't felt the burning electricity coursing through her veins herself, she wouldn't have believed it was turned on any longer.

She moved her hand from the girls cheek to the tangled mess that was her hair. Dried blood marred it. Some parts looked damaged, cut or singed in the battle filled road to this chamber. She moved her fingers through it, unknotting it and putting unruly strands of hair somewhat back in place.

"Feels nice" Tracer murmured.

Widowmaker's heartbeat throbbed painfully hard.

It dawned upon her how much she cared. The desire to kill her hadn't wavered. Instead something else had taken its place next to it. Tracer would be like her. Tracer belonged to her. Soon they'd be the same. The only two like this. Her love for Tracer felt almost motherly. So badly she wanted to nurture Tracer and guide her until the girl could stand next to her and see the same things she did. She wondered how long this weird form of care had been buried inside of her. The feelings she had nourished whenever they had been in battle suddenly making more sense.

Tracers soft voice broke her from her train of thoughts.

"What's going to happen to me?" It sounded small, unsure, yet not apprehensive.

She smiled to herself and retracted her hands from the other girls body. The pain instantly left her own body. A welcome break of quiet peace fell over her, but it felt wrong. Suddenly they were separated. Tracer made a sound in protest.

"Hush dear. Have patience"

She kneeled in front of the restrained girl. She chuckled softly. That wasn't something she had ever imagined herself doing. Tracers ragged dress, if it could be called as such reached to a bit above her knees, pulled up slightly. She reached out and touched the bare leg in front of her slightly above the ankle. Tracer gasped and her body shuddered. For a moment she tensed up again. Widowmaker gave her the time she needed, and slowly she felt the girl relax under her touch again.

Widowmaker delighted in the levels of trust Tracer displayed for her.

"Good girl" she cooed.

Tracer made a 'hmph' sound.

"What is going to happen..." she stated, ignoring the girls reaction "Is that you are going to get adjusted to this. In due time this kind of pain will be nothing for you. You will laugh at it." She traced the numerous cuts and bruises on the bare legs with her finger.

Tracer attempted to utter a giggle, but only a raspy sound came from her throat. She coughed a couple of times and tried to smile. "That's a plus I guess. Always had a bit of a low pain threshold."

"It has its advantages, oui" As if to remind them both she dug her nail painfully hard into one of the bruises on the leg, drawing blood. Tracer screamed. "But you will not only be master of this kind of pain" She raked the nails of both her hands hard over the girls legs, leaving red marks in their wake. Lena tensed and gasped, but this time managed to suppress her scream. "Other pains" She mused sweetly. "Fear, hate, loss, jealousy, loathing, anger. All of those you will be above."

Tracer managed a giggle this time, though it was barely recognizable. "I don't believe that, love. I've fought you, I've seen you angry. Hell, I'd almost say hateful. Annoyance is like your default feeling."

She received another painful scratch at that, but that only elicited more raspy giggles.

Widowmaker couldn't suppress a small smile however. She stared at the ground as she felt it tug at her lips. "Only for you, cherie"

Tracer smiled at that.

"So, am I gonna be purple like you? Because, to be honest, It ain't really a colour for me"

Widowmaker found herself grinning. "Do not worry. I think Talon knows purple isn't your colour. I've gotten... special procedures. Operations, a lot of them. And several fluids pumped into me that did a whole lot more than the ones you are attached to. They specialized me. With a slower heartbeat I can focus better, concentrate longer and survive much easier. Your particular skill set doesn't really require that. They wouldn't do risky operations on someone who doesn't really need them."

"Hah, I'm pretty skilled then. If even Talon doesn't think I need extra powers" Tracer said, pleased with herself.

"You ought to remember that I was a mere simple housewife with no usable skills for battle, cherie"

Tracers smile dropped from her face. "I... I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean yo-"

"Do not worry about it. That woman is no more. I am what became of her. I am more than I have ever been"

Tracer didn't seem to agree completely, her brows furrowed, but didn't object.

 _Good enough for now_ Widowmaker mused. In due time she'd understand the meaning of her words. She'd understand that she became so much _more_ once she became Widowmaker.

With that, silence fell over them. Both lost in their own reality, but under all of that still connected by the pain they shared. Widowmaker, driven by the need for body contact to maintain their connection, continued her ministrations, gently this time. Softly she caressed the girls legs, occasionally massaging the parts that weren't bruised. Slowly she worked her way up. She worked in silence, the constant hum of the electricity and the occasional soft sigh coming from Tracer being the only sounds. First her lower legs, past her knees, her upper legs and finally the girls thighs.

There she hesitated. She could go further she supposed. Touch the parts of the Tracers body that were usually reserved for a more _intimate_ kind of touch. A part of her longed for that, a part she hadn't acknowledged in a long time. See the girl gasp and moan under her touch. See her in pain as well as pleasure was something she felt herself yearn for. Tracer quite likely wouldn't resist much. The torture she was undergoing, combined with the fluids steadily being pumped into her veins made her quite susceptible to suggestion, especially if it came from the only gentle aspect of her situation.

Still. It felt wrong. Not the right time, not the right circumstances. She'd be taking advantage. It might change Tracer in ways neither of them could foresee. It might destroy something in the girl that was so precious to her. It would break the tentative bond of trust they were in, maybe not now, but in due time Tracer would feel the damage.

There had to be another way to be closer, to share more. So instead she placed both her hands on the back of Tracer's left lower leg, putting light pressure on them and lifting it slightly.

Then she kissed her knee.

She heard Tracer gasp. Tremors of pain ran through her own body. Ones lips were such a delicate, thin part of the skin. The pain she felt entering her was not an easy one to take. Her head was throbbing painfully, it was hard to keep herself steady and she felt her consciousness waver. Still, she didn't remove her lips. If Tracer could take it so could she. It was the least she could do. She needed to feel their connections.

And there she sat, kneeling on the floor, pressing soft kisses against the other girls leg. She was all but worshipping her at this point. Honestly, she actually felt like worshipping this girl, so perfect. So much alike yet so different in style. A sense of urgency overcame her. Tracer was hers, hers to protect, hers to keep save, and eventually hers to kill.

She made a growling noise and stood up. Bending over the other girl she pressed one hand onto the girls thigh for support. With the other she grabbed Tracer's throat and forced her to make eye contact as she leaned in.

"You are _mine,_ cherie. Do you understand? No one can have you, no one can hurt you. Once you are done with this" She made a gesture for the surrounding room. "You'll be all what you were meant to become. And then we will be together."

She noticed Tracer was blushing, and likely would have attempted adverting her gaze if the hand on her throat would let her. The faintest hint of a smile glanced across her eyes and marred her lips.

"Sounds like you care a lot about lil' old me" She said quietly, tenderly with only the slightest hint of teasing.

Now Widowmaker was at a loss of words. Yes, she realized. This was, caring right? But it didn't feel like 'care' wasn't nearly enough to describe it. This feeling. That thing inside her that wanted so much from Tracer. Wanted to hunt her, shoot her, hurt her, hold her, torture her, kiss her, kill her. All of it. It wasn't enough. She needed to tear open the girl, crawl inside her and hold her beating heart. Even then it wouldn't be close enough.

Pain and pleasure are separated by something very thin. And so are hate and love. She wanted to hurt the girl. Suffocating her until the life left her eyes. She also wanted to pleasure the girl, holding her close. Can you hurt out of love? And if so is that still love? This all was a painful reminder she wasn't very well versed in the art of deciphering feelings anymore.

Thoughts and emotions were swirling across the her mind. It was overwhelming. The pain numbed the thoughts slightly, but still it consumed her. She needed more. More pain, more Tracer. Almost instinctively she leaned in closer.

Her lips crashed against another bruised pair.

Tracer let out a scream against her mouth, one that sounded so good it made her delirious. The pain shooting through her own lips and mouth was unbearable. Her body was trembling, her muscles aching and twitching on their own. Still she kept going, softly moving her lips against the other pair, every movement creating friction that send shivers of pain and pleasure down her spine. The electricity felt scorching. It was almost too much. She tasted blood in her mouth and realized the shockwaves must have torn open her lip.

Just when she wanted to break contact (because if it was so hard on her how much more pain would the other girl be in?) she felt Tracers lips moving against hers. First softly and unsure but quickly followed by something more steady. She tasted more blood and realized it was Tracers.

"It h-hurts so much" Tracer whispered against her lips. Another kiss. "P-please, don't stop"

Widowmaker forgot everything else around her. There was just her, Tracer and all the pain and pleasure they shared. She propped herself up on the chair, placing one knee in between the others legs, placed so that there was the most skin contact, the most friction. One arm stayed on the girls throat, the other started caressing the girl's body.

They stayed like this for some time. A mess of kisses, growls, yelps, screams and moans. Widowmaker interchanged her caressing with rough, long scratches and fingers digging and prodding in bruises and cuts, all of which would elicit such good sounds from the woman at her mercy. She rubbed her knee between Tracers thigh, sending new waves of pain and pleasure through both of them.

She tightened her grip on the girls throat. Not hard enough that it would damage her, but hard enough that breathing became difficult. Tracer's body went still. She felt the girl hold her breath against her lips. Widowmaker kept kissing her and even though Tracer's body was still she kept kissing back. After a long moment Widowmaker felt the girl twitch slightly against her. Her body wanted to breathe, but Tracer stayed in control of it. One of Tracers hands came up and she placed it on Widowmaker's own hand on her throat. Slightly stroking the hand with her thumb.

Widowmaker noticed the steady build up in the girl. The twitches became harder, more frequent. Lips trembled as she kissed them.

Still Tracer put up no resistance, didn't try to breathe. In fact, Tracer seemed to let her body go completely limp.

Widowmaker broke their kiss and searched for the other girls eyes. They were hazy, delirious but still very much aware. And aside from the twitching, her body was oddly relaxed. She was doing this on purpose Widowmaker realized. Fighting against the needs of her body. Ignoring it's instinct to struggle and fight for air. Mind over matter. Don't fight to survive. Fight the need to survive, and you'll be free. Free of fear, free of the restraints of your body, free of everything.

Widowmaker smiled. Already Tracer seemed to understand what she was set to become.

"Feels good doesn't it, sweet girl?" She whispered. "Makes you feel _alive"_

Only when one is close to death, fire at their heels, hands on their throat, do they feel most alive.

Quickly she leaned down again and caught the girl in a fierce kiss. She tightened her grip on the girls throat, held it like that for a moment and then released Tracer from her grasp.

Tracer struggled for breath. Taking in a few deep gulps of air, only to cough them all out again. The shocks going through her body not making it any easier.

Widowmaker traced circles along the girls heaving chest. "Steady, my dear" she murmured. "Calm yourself. Relax your body and control your breath."

Tracer followed her orders and the coughing became less. Slowly she got her breath under control until her chest was moving normal again.

She looked up and their eyes met. Tracers eyes were wide, adrenaline still coursing through her body. She also seemed exhausted and somewhat fragile. Underneath it all though, she seemed content.

"Hold me" she gasped. "Please, I need you"

Amelié obliged without protest. Carefully she draped her body around the girl. Sitting sideways in her lap, her legs intertwining with Tracers. She turned and leaned her body against the girls chest, burying her face in the slightly bruised neck. With her free arm she softly stroked the parts of Tracers body she could reach. Her arm, her hand, shoulder, chest and abdomen.

The amount of body contact made every movement, every twitch of a muscle, send waves of pain throughout both of them. Neither seemed to mind, both getting used to the constant incoming pain, like a muffled song playing in another room far away. Only when one of them shifted, and an unexpected flash of pain entered them did they gasp, the song becoming loud and clear for a short moment. They were connected at the root, by the rawest of sensations. The most intimate connection possible. And Widowmaker wouldn't have it any other way.

After a long time of sitting like this she eventually felt Tracer go limb under her touch. A quick check confirmed her thought that she'd gone unconscious. That's what she had expected. Tracer had been exhausted and her body had been exerted mercilessly. A glance at fluid filled bags told her they were almost empty, and the initial process was almost done.

She untangled herself from the sleeping girl and simply stood in front of her. Waiting until the process was done. She looked so peaceful. Very much unlike how she herself had been. Images of bleeding, vomiting , ripping hair and screaming until her throat burned flashed across her mind. She shuddered.

This was better, she mused. This time she could make sure Lena wasn't alone, wouldn't lose herself in the darkness. She'd hold her hand and make sure Tracer wouldn't lose the parts of herself that made her who she was.

For now Tracer would get her rest. Her body needed to heal. They'd let her sleep for a while and, if she didn't cooperate, would sedate her until her body was healed enough for another session. Widowmaker would make sure that didn't happen. Once the process was done she'd carry the girl to her personal bedchambers and care for her there. Preparing her for what was to come. Talon likely wouldn't care much. Keeping the girl somewhat mentally save and occupied made her much more durable during sessions. They also hated coming to this level of the facility, so deep underground. In fact, most of the time they _couldn't._

As long as she got Tracer to show up remotely intact for sessions, they wouldn't mind what Widowmaker did to her in between them.

Slowly they'd make her numb to pain and suppress her emotions. She wondered how well that would work, seeing as she herself felt quite a lot today for someone who wasn't supposed to feel. And then there was Tracer, who seemed to feel everything and anything much more intensely than your average person.

The purpose was to try to diminish her free will. That part would hard for them. Try and coax the girl into believing feeling that the most important thing for her was to finish missions and feel alive from the completion. Smugly Widomaker mused that Tracer's sense of heroism would probably die _after_ her body had already perished.

For now though, there would be a moment of peace.

The beeping and subsequent shutting down of the machines told her the process was finished. A small green light appeared in the screen above the headrest.

 _Safe to touch_

Widowmaker laughed.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-


	4. Epilogue

_Epilogue - The Change_

Widowmaker felt herself smile. It was a true smile, unlike those kind of smiles she had learned to plaster on her face for convenience. Those had been a necessary evil. People got a little bit unnerved if she wouldn't occasionally respond with an adequate facial expression. But that had been then. Now was now.

Once again she was reminded how quickly things had changed what felt like such a short time. Sometimes it was still too much to take. Too fast. Too many feelings, thoughts and memories would crash in at once. Tracer would hold her shaking hand and they'd quietly walk, unseen from any possible onlookers until she had gathered her thoughts and regained control. But she was getting better, and so was Tracer. Everything seemed to be getting better these days.

A soft sigh brought her back to the present. It was raining and they were far above the ground. She was leaning against a wall, arms crossed. Her eyes shifted to the source of the sound.

Beneath her, next to her feet sat Lena. Back turned to her, one leg dangling dangerously over the deep edge and one folded beneath herself. She was rummaging through her bag, appearing to be looking for a replacement of a small part for the blaster in her lap, which had started malfunctioning in its last battle. A soft _Ahaa_ was followed by a triumphant looking Lena snagging the part from a small pocket in her bag. Her attention went back to her gun, now partly dismantled.

Her hair had grown. Not much, but enough to see the beginnings of gravity introducing itself to her unruly strands. Amélie liked it. But she supposed she liked the slightly shorter variant too. She thought that as long as it was part of Lena she'd like it.

There was a comforting calm between them, something that had been happening increasingly often lately. Neither of them were speaking. They didn't need to. Not always. They were both on the same wavelength now after all. There was a connection. The quiet was their reassurance that everything was okay.

The rain was getting more intense. They had taken refugee from it in some kind of decorative alcove of a rather large and imposing looking church. London's finest, according to Lena. They were up pretty high. If she peeked over Lena and the edge she was sitting on she could see the street lights, cars and numerous umbrellas passing by.

Lena interrupted their shared silence. "Amélie?" She asked, not bothering to look in her direction.

"Hmm?"

"You think they know it's us by now?" She was still tinkering around with her blaster.

"That's quite likely, seeing as you _waved_ at the camera"

Lena pouted and finally looked away "It was following our movements! Someone was peeking at us!" She huffed.

"Well we were trespassing, cherie"

At that Lena grinned. "You got a point there. They were asking for it though"

"Certainly" Amélie agreed. "Thinking they could steal tech from Overwatch and successfully keep it for themselves is naïve"

A blank look suddenly marred Lena's features. She turned her head and stared somewhere in the distance.

Widowmaker stared intently at the girl below her, who showed no signs of recognition as she stared into the rain.

Quietness settled over them once again. Only the sound of rain surrounded them.

For a long while neither of them moved a muscle, not even the rise and fall of their chests in breathing was present. An observant third party might have said it looked like they weren't breathing at all.

Widowmaker recognized that expression on the girls face. It came over the girl ever so often these days. It was a new expression, or at least Widowmaker had never seen it before. _Before the change._ A quiet seriousness, without any betrayal of what might be going through the girls mind. Calling it a blank expression wasn't the correct way to describe it, somehow it was _less._ As if what was going on underneath it wasn't wholly connected with the outside.

Widowmaker was familiar with it, from _before._ Often it had been like her own expression, her own mask perhaps as in her case it seemed to be clinging to her. Unable to be taken off, covering what fleeting emotions she would feel until they too would pass. Then she'd be at the mercy of the everlasting numbness again.

That was until Tracer came to her. Until she had _changed._

Until both of them had.

The process had taken long. Lena would not be broken easily, Widowmaker mused with an odd sort of pride. Because of the girls strength both of them had nearly succumbed. To nothingness, to death, to obedience. Anything to make it stop. It had been tempting. To Amélie it had even been familiar, as she had given into that temptation herself, a lifetime ago.

But they hadn't given in. They hadn't been alone. That kept them rooted in who they really were. So instead they balanced on the edge, clinging on to each other. For Tracer it had been the heaviest, of course. Amélie wasn't one to fool herself into thinking she suffered the most. No, she had broken much sooner compared Tracer had, when it had been her turn a long time ago.

She had thought that had been it. Her change had completed. They broke her into pieces and build her up differently. A change that couldn't be undone. She would function according to her programming, and eventually she'd be thrown aside. It was functioning, but it hadn't been living.

But then she had touched Tracer, in the beginnings of the girls own change. It had joined them. With Widowmaker there, present in the process of Tracer herself being broken down and build up again, she had left her own presence in there. And in turn Tracer started twisting and turning the pieces in Widowmaker she had long thought were too broken to move.

They had shared pain and pleasure, and within it they had connected over and over again on the brink of death. They would stay there together. Lena breathlessly trying to hold on to anything to not lose her mind, and Amélie taking as much of that burden on herself as she could. She would touch her, distract her, kiss her, hurt her. Keep her fragile mind in the present, fractured but still complete, until the girl's body would give out. She realised she was almost desperate to keep the girl close to her, and to turn her into something she could connect with. A small part of her, perhaps a part that had been much bigger before her own change, reminded her of the cruelty of her actions. Perhaps the right thing to do was to make sure that what happened to her would never happen to anyone else again. But other thoughts and feelings drowned that voice out. She needed this girl by her side so desperately. So badly she wanted to make her understand.

Each time Tracer made it through another session Amélie would gently pick her up in her arms and carry the girl to the resting chamber. This had become progressively harder. Over time her own body was wearing down along with that of Tracer. Bruises marred her skin, malnutrition was evident in her face and there was a near constant tremble in her movements. But each time she had managed it. Each time she would put Tracer in the bed and crawl next to her, holding her close, watching her sleep.

When they woke Amélie would dutifully help Tracer out of her clothes, carry her to the shower, clean the blood and sweat off her and put her back into the bed with a fresh change of clothes. A white gown that made her look innocent, almost holy. After she'd administer a feeding tube into the girls nose and an iv with blood make sure she'd get the nourishment and strength she desperately needed. She took care of everything the girl needed to survive.

They never spoke during the resting periods, which usually didn't last more than day or two. Tracer never resisted or tried to run, apparently having accepted whatever treatment had been forced upon her, and trusted Widowmaker with her fate. During her waking moments she would lay calmly in Amélie's arms. Mostly she'd lay there, staring at the ceiling. Occasionally she'd toy with Amélie's hair or fingers. Sometimes something dark would come over her and she'd bury herself into Amélie as deep as possible. Amélie would held her then. Caress her back and arms, which often slowly evolved into a full massage. She gave her the support and comfort she needed to deal with her mind slowly being broken. It was horrible, Amélie knew from her own experience. She was glad that she was here with Lena, so the girl wouldn't have to suffer alone. Widowmaker needed her on the edge of being broken, not over.

After a while Lena would come to, she would search for Amélie's eyes and _smile._ It was a tiny, vulnerable, almost fragile smile. But it was a genuine one. Widowmaker thought it might be the most beautiful smile she'd ever seen.

There was something empowering about having Tracer, her victim and captive fully relaxed on your lap, as you gently massage her scalp. She seemed so content. Had she been broken after all? No, then she wouldn't smile anymore, not like that. It started dawning on Amélie that maybe Tracer wasn't her victim, but had instead willingly _surrendered_ herself to her hunter, to Widowmaker. A strange sort of love welled up in her at that. And she begun to realize that there was a lot more love and care involved in supporting Lena.

When another session began Amélie would always be beside the girl, always lovingly hold and touch her. No matter how much it hurt her, she would share in the pain. Lena would scream as she clung to Amélie with all her might. Her eyes glazed over, her body trembling. Amélie would hold her still if her body was struggling, to keep her from hurting herself. Would kiss her from keeping her throat go numb. Would whisper words of encouragement and love to her if she grew afraid, and lightly touched her when she lost focus, the shocks of pain keeping her alert. Sometimes they'd idly watched the dark liquid slowly being pumped into Lena's veins.

Each time their connection deepened, each time they shared the same feelings and sensations. A deep connection was created between them, and together they pushed on. Whenever Tracer fainted too quickly, Widowmaker would bring her back. And in the end Lena had even brought her back a number of times.

With each session the last one grew closer.

Others had been present, during the ordeal. Not in any of the chamber reserved for tracer, for they would surely die. If not by the toxicity in the room caused by the fluids being pumped into Tracer it would be by Widowmaker slaying them for _contaminating_ their personal space with their filthy presence.

They had been in charge of supervising the process, and in the beginnings had tried to protest against. Widowmaker being more deeply involved than previously anticipated. For that had been against their orders. Unfortunately for them Widowmaker wasn't in a position to take orders from them, and simply informed them that the process would continue normally, only she would be present whenever and wherever she wanted. They had complied, apparently concluding that as long as the process was completed they had fulfilled their orders.

One man wouldn't have accepted so easily though. In fact he would have probably kindly taken Amélie to a separate isolation chamber for a healthy dose, or an overdose, of reprogramming. That man had been occupied though. Be as it may, Sombra had gotten herself into problems with Overwatch and now she was in a... _compromised_ position. Which Amélie took as the girl being either captive and being interrogated by Mercy and her bunch of friends, or the girl was simply being tempted by what must be a _generous_ peace offer from the ragtag bunch.

If Widowmaker had in fact, paid more attention to the details, and had spend more effort figuring out what was going on outside of her own current affairs she might have connected the dots or at least grown suspicious of the whole story. Because as it happened to be, Reaper might have been completely in the dark about her actions regarding Tracer, Sombra was absolutely _not_.

Maybe if Widowmaker had been more observant she would have noticed that there were more cameras in the rooms than there were screens with feeds of them in the control room. Maybe if Widowmaker had used her cognitive abilities better she might have found it odd rather than simply convenient Reaper never once checked in on her, with or without her knowledge and notice that something wasn't going according to his plan. But Widowmaker never noticed and so never had the chance to feel grateful to the purple haired girl. Because as it were, Sombra was holed up being all cosy with Overwatch, (though they would describe it as a bit of a mutual hostage situation) informing them, almost truthfully, how Tracer was doing, and how she was fixing Amélie at the same time. And not only that, while Reaper was busy 'rescuing' her, Sombra was busy sending him false reports on Tracer's process, faking camera feeds and brain statistics, and most importantly, keeping Widowmaker's own little journey of self discovery hidden from his sight. Why? Reaper annoyed her lately, with his over controlling behaviour on the both of them, like he was the boss or something. That and she felt the Spider deserved a little fun. And hey, if her preferred choice was to electrocute and torture herself on a regular basis then who was she to put a stop to that. Must be a French thing. Fun to watch though.

She could only keep this up so long however. And eventually Reaper marched on home, with a very irate Sombra in tow.

Widowmaker had been informed by their arrival beforehand and time finally caught up with her. Momentarily she had wondered who could have made sure of that, but soon it slipped her mind with more urgent matters.

Weeks, maybe more had passed since Tracer came to this facility. Tracer's change had been almost completed, and neither of them was quite sure what she had become. Just like Widowmaker her heart had slowed down, though not quite as much, and both her cognitive and physical abilities should have been increased, but it was unknown to what extent. Her expressions and behaviour had changed, she seemed more controlled and more calm. In a way it was very unlike Tracer, and for Amélie it was a bit unsettling.

She wondered if the girl was ready. She was pretty sure she was stable but other than that, well only time would tell. After waking Tracer, dressing her in fresh white hospital gowns and informing her they had to go they made their way towards the exit of their little subset of rooms. Widowmaker walked briskly and behind her Tracer copied her movements. There was no expression on her face, not even tension as she blankly followed her caretaker. Amélie worried if Tracer would care enough to fight and defend herself.

There had only been so many guards points they could have passed with excuses of executive orders before they had started to grow suspicious.

A guard came after them, calling her name.

Amélie hissed they should run.

She led them through a series of halls, footsteps and shouts muffled in the distance, and eventually she made it to a storage space she'd been looking for. They dove into it and she closed the door behind them. Quickly she opened various locked doors and drawers, using the needed access codes she had memorized. Inside there were a number of weapons. Nothing big, not her or Tracers preferred weapons, but enough to defend themselves. She shoved a couple of guns and plenty of ammo in Tracers direction, as the girl always enjoyed double blasters, and took a gun and a knife for herself. Tracer mechanically reached for a belt with compartments for the extra magazines and strapped it around her waist. She looked a bit like an angel preparing for warfare, Widowmaker mused, with the white gowns softly illuminated by the chronal accelerator beneath, finished by the ammo around her waist. Her own thought surprised her and she smiled. Tracer had set something in motion within her. She prayed she did the same to her as well.

From a small compartment she pulled out her own suit. Tracer gave both her and the suits owner a long hard look. She had hidden it in here while Tracer was still in the middle of the process. Just in case something in her would change and she would wanted to break out. Her rifle was bugged, so it would be traced. Her suit, with its grappling hook, poison vials And even a well hidden knife, was not bugged.

As she was putting it on she felt some strength flow back into her system, now supported by the suit.

The shouting became louder. Widowmaker put a hand on Tracer's cheek and looked in her eyes, searching for that familiar flash of life that had always been present in their previous battles.

''We're going to fight'' she whispered. ''Are you ready?''

Tracer kept still for a long moment, staring blankly ahead. Widowmaker though she saw a whisper of emotion flicker across the girls face.

Then, life sparked back into those eyes. Faint, doubtfu and uncertain but definitely there.

"Are you?" Was the answer she got. It sounded numb yet there was faint hint of mischievousness in there, but also something deeper, something serious. _Are you really ready to defy them? To give up on everything you have?_

Widowmaker allowed fear to course though her body. More than she had felt in forever. She was scared yes. If they got out then what? Overwatch would probably be mildly disturbed by Tracer's new gig. And she was to blame for it. There was little chance she'd have a place with them. They'd have to run. Or she would have. There was no guarantee Tracer would stay with her.

But that wasn't relevant. Tracer was like her now, in a way. The only one who could understand. She needed to be protected. Protected from Reaper who would destroy whatever spark there still was in those eyes, and end what made the girl who she was.

Determination settled in her mind. She had a clear goal now, and she had something to protect. Her body might be worn from the whole ordeal but she was more ready to fight than ever.

She leaned forward and kissed the smaller girl. Their first kiss outside of session. Momentarily both of them were surprised by the lack of pain that previously accompanied such activities, and the gentleness was something new.

A crash behind them shook them from their calmness.

"Let's find out" Widowmaker heard herself say and with her gun ready she dashed to the exit of the room. She kicked the door open and was met with a group of not too happy, and slightly scared guards. They were hesitating, didn't want to shoot their superior, but also didn't want to be held accountable for what would happen if she'd escape. She made use of their moment of weakness and shot at them, giving herself and Tracer the chance to make a break for it. Behind her she heard Tracer dash out of the room. She ran after her, covering them both.

Soon they ran into another patch of guards. Widowmaker begun to fire rounds and next to her she saw Tracer do the same.

In hindsight most of their escape had become a blur. There had been guards, a lot of them. They had fought to the teeth, running, shooting, avoiding as they moved though the catacombs, trying to make it to the exit a couple of floors above them. She knew the codes and passwords. There were endless halls and staircases, locked down by equally as much bolted doors and locks. She closed them all behind them, buying themselves some time.

The fighting might have been a blur, but Tracer's pressence was engraved in her mind. At first her movements had been mechanical and calculated, her face still expressionless. No sound came from her aside from the occasional grunt. Her actions could have been called crude, as she was getting used to the new abilities of her body. A unnecessary step here, a little too much momentum there, the occasional rebalancing. Tracer took it all in uncaring stride as she meticulously and absentmindedly worked her way through her opponents.

Gradually Widowmaker begun to see changes.

She first noticed when she saw a flash of intensity in the girls eyes as the she shot a guard who had been about to shoot at Widowmaker. Soon it became more and more apparent. An extra step, a slight touch of her hand as the two passed each other. Shouts in warning or in anger.

"Lena, to the left!" She yelled. And as she saw the life erupt in the girls expressions she wondered when she stopped calling her Tracer.

Lena sprung to life and made short work of the guards trying to approach her from the side.

Then Lena giggled. Relief washed over Amélie, who had begun to fear she'd never hear that sound again.

"Thanks, love!" Lena replied. Their eyes met. There was still that controlled calm on the others face. The weariness of someone who went off the deep end, someone who had been almost broken and who isn't moved by the proximity of death anymore. But underneath it was that familiar fire. Excitement, tension, the thrill of a battle. It was all still there. Silently they reached an understanding. Something born from the experience they had shared.

They were _alive_ once more. More than they ever had been.

Lena winked and broke eye contact, choosing to dash after another few men who were insisting on ruining the moment. Amélie joined.

Giggles became more and more abundant. The more they fought the more it changed into their familiar dance again, except this time they were joined un unison. Lena had grown into something more. More than she ever had been. Perfectly she danced around and laughed in amusement. Widowmaker felt herself laugh too. Together they were unstoppable. Together they were one.

Even if they had perished here it would not have mattered. Neither feared death. They were already complete. If one had died so would the other have.

Somehow though, they made it out. Fought their way all the way to the upper level of the facility. There had been a particular amusing elevator ride. It was a spacious industrial elevator, meant to carry supplies between the upper, less restricted layers to the secret facility below. It was gray, sterile and thankfully didn't have any music. Both of them managing to get in and just barely getting the doors to close before numerous guards would close in on them. Unsure of what to do with themselves with the temporary break they were granted they had both started laughing. Amélie winced and felt a surge of pain shoot though her right rib. It had surprised her, as she had previously regarded pain with a more passive attitude. With a professional approach and a mix of mild worry and mirth both of them quickly checked each other for injuries. As Lena concluded that they couldn't trust their own pain responses.

They were both marred with bruises and cuts, the result of the more close combat fighting they had done. There was some evidence bullets had grazed them, but there was nothing serious enough that would prevent them from running once the elevator reached its destination. And it wasn't until they fought themselves out of the upper levels and were lost deeply within a forest with the sun fully set that they stopped running.

They would be hunted, they both knew that. It would be another few hours before Reaper would reach the facility, and he would try to track them. They would need to lay low and cover their tracks.

Over the next few days they would make their way through the forest, Widowmaker having a general idea of which direction they should be going for them to reach society and decent shelter.

Quietly and discreetly they traversed the woods.

They hunted together when needed. They couldn't use their guns. It would attract attention and they were low on ammo anyway. But Lena had her speed and Amélie had her grappling hook. They would huddle close at night, sleeping in trees if they couldn't find dry suitable grounds.

They didn't talk much, and Lena would occasionally turn inside herself. A hazy blank expression would appear on her face and she would mindlessly follow Amélie for a while, her mind far, far away on matters far too intense to put into words, yet unable to feel much emotion about it.

Amélie would let her be, knew from experience the girl was putting her shattered mind back together in whatever form that may be. Reaching far into herself to settle on which was truth and which was delusion. Eventually Amélie would wait for Lena to catch up and grab her hand. And together they would walk until Lena regained her senses.

They reached shelter. Nervously Lena had tried to contact Overwatch.

They'd been relieved to hear she was okay. They had been less than happy that Widowmaker, not as cured as Sombra had them believe, was beside her. They had been downright upset to discover what happened.

They didn't outright reject them, but they also didn't _trust_ them. That hurt Lena deeply, even though her emotions weren't fully functioning. Amélie understood where they came from. She had been the one to deeply hurt their trust in the first place. They had took her back in after she had been kidnapped, the doctor had examined her and declared her healthy and sane.

Then she had murdered her husband, their former colleague and had gone back to join Talon.

To hear that the same thing had happened once again was hard on them, and they had a deeply rooted fear that if they let Lena back in they would one day wake up with another one of their friends murdered.

They could come, but then they would be detained. Words like 'intense examinations' and 'solitary confinement' fell and both Lena and Amélie had gotten pale. No they wouldn't let themselves be imprisoned, not after they had just escaped.

They settled on keeping on their own for a while. Still on the run from Talon, but they never got too close. Overwatch had generously supplied Lena with a new suit, her blasters and some fixes on her accelerator. They went as far to them by spreading the rumour that Lena and even Amélie were operating under Overwatch again, to put off Talon even more.

Lena took it as a sign of trust, and determinedly told Amélie they would fully gain the trust of Overwatch and would proof to them they were on their side.

Amélie wasn't particularity interested in joining the busy ragtag bunch, especially with so many noisy members, but she also wouldn't mind giving Lena a place that accepted her. As long as they could be together Amélie didn't complain. Though she doubted both of them would ever fully have their heart in Overwatch matters again, and also doubted if Overwatch would ever be fully comfortable with them. Lena seemed to thrive better on the idea she would at least have a family to come home to. She could try to grand her that at least.

Lena had quickly set her plan into motion. Working on various ways to show Overwatch their genuine intentions. Recently they had learned a splintered group of Talon agents had stolen some cargo from Overwatch and had hidden it in the underground scene of the city. Lena had insisted they infiltrate and get it back. Amélie had complied.

They succeeded of course, but not before Lena made sure everyone knew it had been them who stole it. Her wave had been recorded on several cameras and soon the entire underground would know the pair had gotten in. It wouldn't be long before Overwatch would be informed, but of course long before then the tech would have already magically and anonymously appeared at their doorstep.

Amélie kneeled beside Lena and rested a hand upon the other's. Occasionally Lena would disconnect from her emotions. They had attempted to wire her without emotion after all. Similar to Amélie she would feel utterly alive in battle, but be confronted with a numbness without it. It would, unlike Amélie's experience, cripple her in her ability to process things very well, emotions being the thing Lena needed most to function. It never stuck to her though, and the episodes were either very short or not all that strong. In the same way Amélie had regained some of her emotions. Sometimes she'd be overcome by them, with no idea what to do. But most of the time they were vaguely there, much less than what an average person felt, she guessed, but still infinitely more than she had felt before.

She squeezed Lena's hand. Soon she'd go back to being mostly her old self, yet more perfect, according to Amélie at least.

After a while the numb expression on Lena's features faded and she turned to face the other woman.

"Heya" she whispered sheepishly.

"Welcome back"

Amélie noticed the forlorn expression on the other girls face. Her eyes quickly darting back and forth and a quiet nervousness marring her features.

She inched closer and softly caressed Lena's arm with her hand. "There's nothing wrong with you" she said softly. " It's alright. You're you. You're perfect. The numbness will pass" She softly scratched the girls upper arm. "Trust me _I know"_ She heard Lena giggle and received a playful nudge against her shoulder.

In turn she scratched _hard_ and received a sharp gasp in return.

They exchanged glances with each other. Fire behind both of their eyes.

In one fluid movement Amélie stood back up, grabbed their supplies and all but threw them in the corner of the alcove, hidden in the shadows. She turned around on the spot and without hesitation she lunged at Lena. Roughly she pulled the her up by her arms. Lena struggled and scrambled to her feet. Amélie pushed her backwards against the wall. She grabbed both of the girls arms and pinned them above her. With her free hand she lunged at Lena's throat, tightening her grip just enough that Lena would have slight trouble breathing.

They both stood still. The only sound between them was Lena's shallow breaths. The rain hiding them from the rest of the world.

This girl she had pinned against the wall was her prey, her kill, but also her love, her meaning. Concepts such as loving someone and killing someone become intermingled for creatures such as them. You feel alive in loving, you feel alive in killing. Holding the close and feeling, _touching_ every spot on their body was close, but holding the other close as you put a bullet in their stomach, and cradle them in your arms as they slowly bleed out, the light softly fading form they eyes as they grasp onto you with all of their being is _closer._

Lena's previously limb body now started to struggle. As she tried to free herself from her captor, said captor fired her grappling hook at a ledge she'd preciously noticed, lunged once again at Lena and pushed the both of them over the edge. As they fell she grabbed Lena and slammed her into the wall they were falling along. Lena roared in pain and anger.

A normal person might have broken a rib or to, but Lena merely gasped. Amélie let Lena fall and watched with satisfaction as the girl crash-landed on the ridge several feet under them.

Quickly she fired the her grappling hook again and started scaling the building. She paused on a ledge a few feet above Lena. She sought the others eyes, seeking to know what was going on behind them Their eyes met and vaguely Amélie could make out some expressions. _Intensity. Yearning. Alive._ Then for one second Amélie saw another, very worrying expression. _Fear, confusion._ It was gone in a flash.

The both of them stood there, staring at each other.

 _Do you trust me, Lena?_ She asked wordlessly

Lena seemed to be pondering for a moment.

Suddenly she looked up and met Amélie's gaze. It was an intense look. _I do._

A quick wink. Widowmaker's heart skipped a few beats. Lena suddenly growled. "You better _run,_ love' It sounded angry. _Good._

They trusted each other indefinitely.

Now it was time for Amélie to grin. Without looking back she made a break for it, quickly moving from the church towers roof, going for the churches flat roof where she could move more freely.

The sizzling sounds coming from behind her told her Lena was hot on her heels, no doubt flashing closer by the moment.

She heard those familiar blasters going off, and a moment later she could feel the heat on her skin as the bullets passed her.

This was life, this was heaven. Another series of shots rang out and a searing hot pain in Amélie's upper left leg made her wince in pain and temporary struggle to keep her balance. _Lena is shooting more seriously this time. S_ he mused. The wound was bleeding. She could feel it seep over her legs, but there was no time to pause and take a good look at it. She took out her rifle and went for higher ground, preparing to retaliate. Revenge for the scratch Lena had given her.

The wound didn't matter. They would care of each other's injuries afterwards, like they always had done. They trusted each other, they knew how much the other could take, much more than normal humans. This game of theirs was their dance. Widowmaker swirled around, dodging bullets and firing a rain of her own. It was a dance full of fire and life.

The cargo destined for Overwatch's doorstep still lay in the corner alcove hidden in the shadow, protected from the rain. Momentarily forgotten.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

My sincere thanks for reading. And my apologies for the weird delay. I got caught up in matters called life. And somewhere I felt a bit awkward finishing this. Thank you to those who bugged me. It helped a lot.


End file.
